Six Steps to Purgatory
by Trunks lil' sis
Summary: Don made him promise to stay in the car, and Charlie broke that promise resulting in his abduction by the very criminals he helped hunt down. Now it's rush for Charlie to escape their clutches, and for Don to find him before it's too late. COMPLETE.
1. Step One: Disobedience

Title: Six Steps to Purgatory

Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language)

Authors Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in. I expect this to run five more chapters, but since I'm devoted to an SG-1 fic right now, don't expect these chapters to come flying out like there's no tomorrow.

Authors Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie. This could also stand a beta read over.

Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.

Six Steps to Purgatory

Chapter One: Step One: Disobedience

Charlie would never say his handwriting was poor, or anywhere below average. As a mathematician it was necessary for his script to be legible, whether on a chalkboard or a piece of paper. He had never gotten any complaints from his students or any of the other CalSci professors. Larry himself, his best friend Larry had promised him what Don called chicken scratch was in actuality easily identifiable.

"Is that a one, or a seven?"

Charlie leaned forward from his place in the back seat of Don's SUV to snatch a pad of writing away from his older brother. "It's a seven," Charlie said, glaring at his brother's teasing expression. He took a glance out of a tinted window to see David making his way back to their position. "That's not the important part, anyway." Charlie's sour mood evaporated quickly, as it usually did.

Don turned slightly in the driver's seat to reach back and ruffle some of his younger brother's curly hair. In all truth he hadn't really understood any of the numbers or writing on the page. Aside from the advanced mathematics degree he probably needed to understand it, when Charlie wrote fast he had a tendency to take his horizontal lines veridical, not to mention the kid's chicken scratch turned into random lines in pretty variations.

Retrieving a pencil behind his ear, Charlie leaned forward as David slipped into the black SUV.

"Don't worry," David assured him, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out his own small pad of paper. "I got it."

With a chuckle David handed the information back to a nearly salivating Charlie who quickly flipped the pad open and studied the data. Then in mere seconds the professor was fast at work, his pencil scribbling furiously.

"The mother gave it up?" Don asked David, turning the SUV on.

"Not exactly easily, but she did eventually." David pulled at his tie lightly. "I sure wish Terry was here. She's better at getting information out of stubborn people."

"Well," Don said, eyes locked to the rearview mirror where he could monitor the traffic behind him and Charlie who seemed impervious to outside forces. "She'll be back in a few weeks."

David nodded. "The sooner the better."

"It's the steel district near Montgomery Road!" Charlie pitched forward as far as his seatbelt would allow. He waved a piece of paper frantically. "At first I wasn't sure due to conflicting data, but I didn't know at the time I had been supplied false data and I had to take the time to weed through what was actually useful and what wasn't. Finding the location became extremely difficult when I discovered that purposely a false trail had been set up, hidden ingeniously within the original patter of robberies. I had to first discover the fake trail and decipher it according to--"

"Charlie!" Don barked, then slide the startled younger man a smile. "Montgomery Road? You're sure they're hiding somewhere among those old steel factories?"

Charlie blinked in a stunned fashion, then nodded. "Yes, I'm positive. If you can get me more data I can probably identify which factory--"

Don waved a hand while David flipped open his cell phone.

"It's fine Charlie." Don said. "You've done all you can, we just don't have the time to get you more data to narrow it down."

Charlie settled his shaking hands onto his lap and listened in a detached way to David notifying other agents to their current location and their intended destination. While Charlie detested dangerous situations, he had to admit that speeding off to catch the bad guys was a sort of thrill. The butterflies in his stomach were somewhat pleasant.

"Now I want you to stay in the car," Don said as they neared the steel factories. "There isn't any time to drop you off anywhere so I need you to not move."

"Sure, Don," Charlie nodded.

"No, no," Don objected. "This isn't a sure, Charlie. This is a serious, real, dangerous situation I'm taking you into. For your safety, my sanity and Dad's health, promise me you'll stay in the car. That means no getting out because you've figured something out, and no wandering around wanting additional data. You stay in the car with your pad of paper, your pencil and your brain. You keep your seatbelt on and your butt in that seat or the FBI will never consult with you again, at least under any of my cases if I have any say. Do you understand?"

Glancing through his rearview mirror Don watched with trepidation as a number of emotions filtered through Charlie. Don flicked his eyes back to the road ahead of him and then again to his brother who had finally settled with determination.

"I promise, Don. I won't get out."

Real honesty and loyalty filtered through the car along with an edge of innocence Don was sure Charlie would never lose. His little brother, Charlie was an adult, but still Don knew he could look just as innocent and virginal as a kid, and it wasn't an act. Don was sure Charlie couldn't help being that way, and Don grew to appreciate it at times. Charlie wasn't ignorant or so naive, he was merely less than wise to deception and other tactics criminals fed off of. Charlie didn't always understand people could be manipulative and hurtful, but Don figured that's what he was there for. There was a reason he was Charlie's older brother.

"Don't break that promise, buddy," Don warned.

"I won't," Charlie promised.

Don turned sharply down a side street, the first of dozens of steel factories in sight.

"SWAT is already in place," David said, packing ammunition into his gun. "They'll be ready to go once we get there. Johnson and Greene are arriving at the scene as we speak."

Nervously Charlie tucked a foot under him. "Do you have a specialist at the scene? Someone who knows the place?"

"No, but we do have blueprints and enough manpower to set up a fairly good sized perimeter and expand outward or inward as we see fit."

"I'd like to look at these blueprints."

Nearly a block back from the steel factories, Don, David and Charlie spotted SWAT and the FBI, suited up and ready to move in. They were located just out of the range of visibility for anyone inside the factories, giving them the element of surprise.

"I don't think so, Charlie. We know what we're doing. You just stay still."

"They've been stealing for months now, Don. Criminals have established patterns that tell us when they steal in large quantities, most don't like to sell what they've stolen until the heat goes down and statistically their merchandise calls for a large space in which to store it. Just look at the blueprints for more than a second before you go rushing in there. Concentrate on larger areas, or those factories that have basements."

Then suddenly Don was jerking the car to a stop. He didn't pause or offer Charlie any further words. Don's hand struck the door lock, effectively setting it. His door slammed loudly and Charlie watched him race off, gun drawn.

"Be safe, Don," He whispered, touching the window lightly.

His hands had evolved from nervous shaking to outright trembling seconds after losing sight of Don. He tended to do so whenever he thought of his brother's dangerous profession. It was a natural reaction he supposed, one that any normal, concerned sibling would have. Don was good at what he did, probably one of the best. He didn't take chances and didn't pull stupid, heroic stunts. Don was a professional who followed protocol in tense situations. Don reduced his odds of being placed in the deceased category daily.

For all the work he did still Charlie felt helpless as he sat in the SUV. The FBI agents on the scene had filtered into the maze of factories along with the highly capable SWAT team and police officers. A quick glance to the street told him only a few others were in range and even they seemed to be productive in some way. A police officer down the street was obviously monitoring progress on his walkie-talkie and radio inside the patrol car while his partner stood guard for any suspicious behavior. Across the street stood a relatively young FBI agent consulting with someone dressed in non-work attire, and they were both going over large sheets of paper, probably blueprints.

His hand drifted towards the seatbelt clasp. Don had told him to stay in the car, but if those were blueprints, he could be of use.

What was the balance? On one hand he placed Don's direct order to stay put, and on the other the need and necessity to help Don in any way. If he could narrow down the FBI's search, he could quite possibly save lives. The criminals hiding inside the factories had already killed innocent people and Charlie had no doubt they wouldn't hesitate to murder an FBI agent, or a member of the LAPD or SWAT. But what of the promise he had made to Don? Charlie liked to keep his word, but was it worth the price of Don's life?

Damn the consequences to hell, Charlie decided and tugged his seatbelt off. Leaning forward into the front of the vehicle he hit the unlock mechanism for the door.

His sneakers hit the pavement of the street simultaneously as shots rang out. Dozens of quick bursts filled Charlie's ears and he lost count. Fire and return fire was lost to him as the sounds began to blend together into a swarm of noise. He crouched down on the pavement with his head low. The gunfire continued.

Closer to him he could hear screaming and feet rushing away from him. The remaining personnel from the street were rushing in to assist.

There was a pause in gunfire and Charlie took this time to raise himself from the ground and throw himself back into the SUV.

He lay on his stomach across the back seat with his hands covering his head as the battle began again. He was somewhat aware of the blood pounding in his ears and his poor feet sticking out of the open backseat door.

Charlie wasn't quite sure how long he was laying stretched across the back seat. Time seemed to slow as his thoughts ran away from him. The ratio, velocity and probability of the bullets flashed through his mind, numbers running out of control. Estimated death rate, number of injured based on number of bullets fired, range and location. God, he didn't even know where Don was. How was he supposed to calculate what the risk his brother's fatality was without proper data? He wouldn't be settled without the data and he saw no real way to attain it with his current position, and he knew for sure he wasn't moving for anyone less than Don, David or someone who was going to take him to them--so he was promptly stuck.

Charlie gasped for air in a mild anxiety attack, attempting to pull his non-responsive legs into the SUV. Why couldn't he move? What was wrong with him?

Then with a vicious tug his legs were being pushed up towards his chest. The door near his head was flung open along with the two in the front. Rough hands wrapped around his upper body and pulled him upward, then the doors were slamming again, keeping most of the outside light out.

"Who the fuck are you?" A deep, threatening voice asked.

Charlie blinked through moisture, suddenly aware of people pressed into either side of him, and two more in the front seat. He didn't recognize any of them, and they surely didn't know who he was.

"Where are the keys?" The man from the driver's seat demanded from Charlie, waving a gun at him.

"I don't know," Charlie said, eyes wide in desperation. "My brother took them."

The men in the front seat exchanged a quick look and Charlie found another gun trained on him from the passenger seat as the man in the driver's ducked down, most probably to hotwire the car.

"Get us the hell out of here!" The man from Charlie's right demanded. He gripped Charlie's right arm tightly, most likely leaving some sort of bruising.

The SUV roared to live as the man in the driver's seat reemerged, throwing the car into drive.

These were the criminals, Charlie realized. How they had gotten past Don and the dozens of men trying to find and apprehend them was something he didn't want to think about.

"Let me go," Charlie said to the man on his left, the only one who hadn't show any real aggression. "I won't tell anyone you took the car. I won't say anything. Just let me go."

"Sorry kid," The man in the passenger front seat said, less than regretfully. "You've seen us. Can't have you making a positive identification."

More gunfire erupted from outside the SUV and Charlie thought for a mere moment someone was wise to the criminal's plans. Someone was coming to save him. As gunfire was returned Charlie realized he had greatly underestimated the men committing the string of robberies. There were far more than he had accounted for, far more men than the data had told them there were. There were enough men shooting at the FBI, LAPD and SWAT teams that these men, probably the leaders or most important men, could get away.

"If you don't let me out now," Charlie said, his voice cracking with fright, "You'll be caught. I'll only slow you down." What he really wanted to say involved Don's position in the FBI and a string of curse words. He wanted to tell them Don would be on their asses faster than they could ever imagine. However part of him was even more afraid they'd find out he was family to an FBI agent. He didn't want to lose his life over something so trivial.

The grip on Charlie's arm tightened as the guy on his right side laughed. "We ain't getting caught, and we ain't letting you identify us neither. We got ourselves a Fed's car which is gonna get us away from here without anyone looking twice. We'll dump the car before they get wise."

Dear lord, Charlie realized, they were right. The police blocks would be cleared for Don's SUV and they'd drive right on through without a second look, not with the diversion their associates were creating. These were the men who had been robbing LA blind over the past month, and they were far from amateurs. They had managed to get past the FBI, SWAT and the LAPD which proved they had more than luck on their side. They'd most certainly have a backup car that would transport them to a second base of operations, and there was no way in hell they'd let him go.

"Pity," The driver told him as he took the car further from Don who could be injured and in need of help or worse. "You should remember to keep the doors locked. We were just looking for a set of Fed wheels, not you especially."

"They were," Charlie said softly, hoping he hadn't just made the last mistake of his life.


	2. Step Two: Hostility

Six Steps to Purgatory

Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language) And we're really pushing towards the R rating. Be on the lookout for a change in rating soon.

Authors Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in.

Authors Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie. This could also stand a beta read over.

Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.

Chapter Two: Step Two: Hostility

Don wasn't a blushing virgin to police shootouts. He had been in more than his father ever needed to know, and certainly enough to make him an expert in what was an acceptable risk. So now he sat with his back to a steel panel, where he happened to have fallen a few minutes ago. Every attempt he had made to climb to his feet, even in a crouching position had resulted in increased danger to his health. The lousy bastards shooting at him and his team had certainly stockpiled enough ammo to hold them off for a while, which from experience told Don they were up to something.

Next to him David pulled an arm over his face as bullet fire erupted just over his head.

"We're way in over our heads!" David peeked around his defending arm. "We have to think of some thing fast."

Ducking closer to the ground Don retrieved a radio that had been hitched on his belt. "Gordon!" Don called over the police frequency. "What's the ETA on backup?"

Static met his request.

"David, see a way out of here?"

They couldn't stay for long, they were just too exposed. From his own point of view any move he made might make the both he and David large targets to both the criminals and friendly fire. He hadn't meant to get backed into such a location, and it was something even a rookie knew better than to do. He had a really bad feeling and attributed it as a distraction that had allowed him to be backed into a corner, taking David with him. His first year out on the field had taught him not to let distractions effect his performance, but this was different. This was the feeling he got when something very, very bad was happening.

The radio crackled to life. "Eppes?"

"Eppes here!"

"ETA two minutes! Hold on two minutes!"

Don turned to smile in relief to David when the ground shook. His ears rang with pain, his body trembled and a wave of heat washed over him. He opened his eyes that had closed in reflex to see a huge cloud of black smoke erupt from the factory across from him--the one that the criminals had been taking cover in.

David was sprawled out next to him, looking dazed. They had been close, Don realized. Close enough to feel the heat from the blast, and a quick look down at his clothing told him they had been sprayed with pieces of debris.

"David!" Don coughed, reaching for him. "You alright?" Don stumbled to his feet, using the wall to brace himself.

"What happened?" David asked, accepting a hand up.

Around them fellow FBI officers, the Police and SWAT were rising to their full height. Confusion seemed to be an epidemic.

Cautiously, Jose Gordon, a Captain of the police force Don's FBI team worked with frequently jogged over to him. He held his gun in a slack hand, eyes searching the area for escaping suspects. However, reason told him there weren't going to be any.

"They blew themselves up?" David asked from Don's side, nursing the side of his head.

"Our sharp shooters are reporting the explosion came from within the factory," Gordon told them. "From a higher look they're estimating no chance of survival."

Don was well aware you didn't need to be high to realize that. The factory was on fire and it was deathly still inside. No cries for help, no where to run and certainly no place to hide. The force of the blast that had knocked into him was one of deathly proportion. "Suicide, for sure," Don said.

"Willing to take their crimes to their graves," Gordon said with a frown. "Uncommon for their profiles."

Don rubbed his chin. "I'd say so. One or two prior arrests, and a couple years in jail was all they had. Certainly not enough to be desperate enough to blow themselves up according to the threat assessment."

"I believe," Gordon said gravely, "That we may have underestimated the situation."

David nodded in agreement.

Don turned his eyes back to the burning factory and the failed raid. Half a dozen men were probably dead and thousands of dollars of stolen merchandise was destroyed. All in all their operation was a complete failure. Maybe, Don wondered, if he had allowed Charlie a little more time to narrow the right factory down they could have caught the criminals.

"Call in a cleanup crew," Don ordered. He turned to David. "I'm going to head back to the office and explain this. Can you get a ride back with Gordon or another agent?"

David agreed, knowing how little Don was looking forward to having a chat with his superiors. David was more than grateful at that moment that Don was the senior agent.

Don walked swiftly from the burning factory and stepped out onto the nearby street with a breath of air. His hands were shaking like they did after a rush of adrenaline and he tucked them quickly into balls. He turned his head to the left and then the right, and finally frowned. He glanced at the street sign, wondering if he had the wrong street, no matter how familiar it looked.

Where was his car? Where was Charlie? Where were the damn police officers that were supposed to be looking out on the street?

"Agent Eppes!"

Don spun at his name. A young, probably the youngest agent on the team, was running towards him with a frantic look. What was his name? O'Connell? O'Neill? O'Brien? It was O something.

"Agent?" Don addressed him formally.

"Sir, you have to see this."

Then they were rushing along the perimeter of the factory district, towards an alley! One quick estimate told Don that it lead right into the center of the factories. Why weren't there any guards placed at the entrance? How could the floor plans to the district been overlooked so easily?

Oh, Don realized, they hadn't. The bodies of two senior police officers lay in slumped positions, bullets emptied into their heads, execution style.

"Stokes and Forest," A nearby fed told him. "Both on the force thirty years and they wouldn't have gone down without a fight, nor would they have been caught off guard."

"They were overpowered," Don assumed.

Terror suddenly rushed through Don and he was running from the scene, back to the street. He froze in front of the 'Tow Away Zone' sign he damn well knew he had parked in front of, then knelt down next to tire marks.

"Sir?"

Don look up at the kid who's name he still couldn't remember, grateful he had followed.

"My car was parked here," Don said. "My brother was in it."

The kid looked at him uncertainly. "Sir?"

"My much younger brother can't drive," Don ground out. "He's deathly afraid of driving a car, let alone an SUV."

"Maybe another agent of officer drove him?"

"The ones that came running to back us up in the shoot out, or the ones that are laying dead in the alley?"

The kid still wasn't getting it when Don stood and pulled out his cell phone. He punched in a few, familiar numbers and raised the device to his ear, listening to it ring. "Kid," Don addressed him. "We've got a kidnapping." Don barked the information of his SUV into the phone as the other agent took off to inform the police department already at the scene.

"Oh, Charlie," Don whispered, looking on down the street. He felt wetness prick the edges of his eyes at the thought of is baby brother in any sort of danger. And just a second later he forwent the concern of anger. He'd find those idiots who dared take his younger brother anywhere, and heaven help them if they hurt him. He'd find them and he'd make them pay, painfully.

Meanwhile, nearly clear across Los Angelus Charlie rode in Don's SUV with the escaped criminals, never more nervous or scared in his life. Nearly twenty minutes had passed since the car jacking and they were far from LA's most populated areas.

Charlie held his hands in his laps, willing them to stop shaking. He willed his whole body to stop shaking. He could hear the conversation quite clearly that was currently happening in the front part of the SUV and didn't like where it was going one bit. The two men in the front who appeared to be in charge were discussing what to do with him.

"I say we dump his body."

Charlie's ears picked up the driver's words and clenched his eyes closed. He could hear the man to his right chuckling.

"Look," Charlie tried, "I'm not a cop or an FBI agent. I'm nothing special and if you let me go now in this remote area you could be long gone before anyone finds me. I wouldn't tell anyone who you were and you could get out of the city without any trouble."

"You gonna cause us trouble?" The man in the front passenger seat was poking around the glove compartment.

A sharp poke from Charlie's side had him wincing as he recognized the front of a gun being pressed into his side. "Jerry, we could always just get rid of the problem right now." Charlie could safely assume the man on his right was the most aggressive of the group.

"Knock it off!" The man from Charlie's left commanded, speaking for the first time. "Put your goddamn gun away and stop scaring the kid."

The driver swerved into an alley and Charlie bounced against the gun again.

"You shut your mouth, Clarence," The owner of the gun poking into him taunted. "Or I'll shove it in your mouth and blow your brains out."

"Shut up, the both of you!" Jerry, the driver barked, slamming on the breaks. "Now get him out."

The aggressive man was less than gentle as he jerked Charlie out of the SUV. Charlie blinked as his eyes adjusted from the tinted SUV environment to the full rays of the sun. As he was dragged forward he realized they were moving down the dirty alley towards a parked car and another man standing guard in front of it.

"Trouble?" The man of clear Asian decent asked, waving a gun dramatically. His eyes set on Charlie and he frowned, leveling his gun on the Math Professor. "Why the baggage?"

"Fucking Feds," Jerry explained shortly. "Get him in," He said to the man at Charlie's side.

Charlie scooted into the Cadillac's backseat, followed by the aggressive man and Clarence. Both the driver and the man that had sat in the passenger seat of the SUV remained outside to talk with the Asian man.

Charlie wondered just how he'd get himself out of the trouble he had certainly gotten himself into. He had no doubt Don would be on his trail, but for the time being he was on his own. He wasn't incapable of taking care of himself and he sure was resourceful when he needed to be. He wasn't going to be victim.

"Jesus!"

Out of the corner of his eye Charlie saw Clarence duck down and suddenly he was wrenched down painfully by the other man. His arm burned in pain as the familiar sound of gunfire erupted behind them. And the sound of a few bullets hitting the metal of the car registered in Charlie's ears, causing him the hunch down further.

Charlie blinked his eyes open and sat up a bit as the front door to the car popped open, the same men from the SUV sliding in. The man in the passenger seat was bleeding from the arm.

"Lee?" Clarence asked. "Take a hit?"

Charlie turned sharply behind him and spotted the body of an Asian man crumpled and bleeding.

"Flesh wound, barely grazed me," The man in the passenger seat said. He was tying a sort of tourniquet around his arm when Charlie turned back around.

"Where are you taking me?" Charlie managed to ask as Jerry turned the car on and took off down the alley. Because Charlie had since worked out that no matter what he said, they weren't going to voluntarily let him go while he was still breathing. He knew their names, what they looked like and had been fifteen feet away from a murder he was sure Jerry and Lee had committed. They weren't fools and he wasn't getting away unless he managed to pull something amazing out of thin air. Currently his best bet was playing the waiting game. He had to keep calm, not make his kidnappers mad and give Don enough time to find him.

"Hank," Jerry said, nursing a hand to the side of his head. "Shut the kid up." So finally the aggressive man had a name, and a fitting one at that.

The hammer of a gun near his head cocked loudly and Charlie swallowed, deciding he could most certainly keep his mouth shut for duration of his stay.


	3. Step Three: Despair

Six Steps to Purgatory

Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language) And we're really pushing towards the R rating. Be on the lookout for a change in rating soon.

Authors Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in.

Authors Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie. This could also stand a beta read over.

Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.

Chapter Three:

Step Three: Despair

A final perimeter sweep had come up clean. Nothing, absolutely nothing pointed to the identities of Charlie's kidnappers, or their motives. Precious hours ticked by, hours that Don knew were just too important to ignore. He had worked more than his share of missing persons cases to know the first hours meant the most. If he and his team didn't find some clue, anything really, there was a large possibility Charlie could--well, Don couldn't think past that point.

Don raised a hand to the large cork-board filled with the current case facts. He remembered when it hadn't had Charlie's picture tacked up. In fact Charlie had been standing next to him when the team had started it. Charlie had been optimistic, and just so confident. Now Charlie was missing, due impart to a miscalculation with high implications. Don had no doubt when that set in his younger brother would beat himself up over it. Charlie was brilliant, and unlike most of the population, didn't often make mistakes. But on this particular case, Charlie had, and Don was just all too aware of the mental repercussions his brother would put himself through. Charlie liked to believe he was incapable of making mistakes.

He didn't like feeling helpless, but at the current moment there simply wasn't anything to do. Each and every agent under his command was busy following leads, tying up the phones lines with Charlie's Amber Alert responses. David himself had been glued to the phone for the past hour, checking in with the city's central traffic camera center. David had assured them they'd find the car. And Terry, bless her heart, was locked in a far room with another agent and a local mathematician trying to calculate the probability of the criminal's intended escape route. She had flown right in from Nevada at the news of Charlie's disappearance and she was doing what he couldn't. Don couldn't be in the room with a different man doing Charlie's job.

Don couldn't ever really recall feeling the way he currently was. Even when a case hit a snag, Don usual had something to go back over. Facts to recheck, people to question again, and at the very least, the scientists from the labs to pester for evidence results. But on this case there was nothing to recheck and certainly no one to speak with. The men who had taken Charlie had been swift, calculated, practiced and good. They hadn't left anything traceable.

"Don!" David offered him a large smile, probably their first good sign of the day. He waved at Don with a sense of urgency.

David rose from his seat, phone still attached to his ear and picked up a red Sharpie. He walked quickly over to the large map across the room. He marked the steel factories on the map and then very carefully began to draw a line connecting one street to another. The red line took a trip down Lancaster, up Michigan and turned East on Browne. It ended sadly in the grungy, low income section of the Fitzgerald area. David thanked the person on the phone and ended the call.

"It wasn't easy, but traffic cameras around Walters Avenue managed to just catch the end of the license plate a couple hours ago. From there it was tracked," David said, pointing along the line. "This way, up into the Fitzgerald complex."

"Yeah, yeah," Don commented. "I know the area. Big meet up place for gang bangers and drug dealers. Little to no camera surveillance in a big area."

Don wasted no time flipping his phone open, calling several teams to the location. They'd search the whole night if they had to.

"Run this to Terry and the consultant," Don ordered. "This should give them a better idea of where to look for the car."

Finally, Don sighed in relief, a lead. It wasn't a spectacular one, and it gave them a huge area to search, but it was better than nothing.

He gathered his keys up and clipped his cell phone to his belt. "Hey, Maria," He called to the agent working nearest him. "I'm going out on the field, call my cell for anything. Tell Terry and David the next time you see them." She nodded seriously to him, before flipping back through a police statement, highlighter in hand.

Don passed through the security checkpoint with a quick nod to Terrance David, the chief of the building's security. The sympathetic look had Don walking faster from the station towards the building's garage. Jesus Christ, was there anyone who didn't know Don had allowed his little brother to be kidnapped under the noses of dozens of Federal Agents?

He had to get home. He had to go to his father and tell him he had lost Charlie. He had to tell his father before the news stations got wind of the whole mess.

And while Don headed towards the house Charlie had bought from their father, Charlie himself was headed from the city. They were leaving LA, Charlie realized desperately. They were heading south, which spelled utter trouble. Not even Don, Charlie realized, would be able to help him if they crossed into Mexican territory. Mexico was easy to lose yourself in.

Charlie lolled his head backwards onto the swayed material behind his head. "Harrison Street Exit," Charlie mumbled to himself, shuffling the important landmark into his mind, willing himself to remember that and a dozen others like it. If he managed to get a hold of a phone or some way to contact Don, he'd have to attain a way to let his brother know where to find him.

And yet as they passed another important landmark, Charlie found his head pounding with a migraine and his eyelids becoming heavy. His nerves were frayed, Charlie understood. His body was near shock from the day's events and this was its way of avoiding a total a complete breakdown. As much as he desperately realized he needed to remember where they were going, if he were to have an attack of any kind, anxiety or whatnot, he was sure the men who had kidnapped him would not be so understanding. Their first instinct happened to be violence and Charlie wanted to desperately avoid at all costs.

Despite his mind's pleas, his body chose that moment to shut down.

The next conscious thought came with an abrupt feeling of warmth. He was leaning on something malleable and soothingly warm. Without opening his eyes he could just imagine how upset Don was going to be he had fallen asleep on the older man. Charlie found his brother's shoulder an easy target when he was sleepy, which annoyed Don to no end. Charlie did it in part because he was comforted by the soft, accessible thuds of his brother's steady and strong heart, and partly because he knew there were few things in his life he could to that utter drove his brother insane.

Then suddenly he was jostled away. His eyes flew open and he realized he was not at home, napping on the comfortable sofa with his brother.

His thoughts came to him as strong hands gripped the front of his shirt and jerked him forward. He stumbled from the car but caught himself from taking a tumble onto the hard cement of the garage they were currently enclosed in.

"Take him inside," Jerry barked.

Charlie felt his arms ripped painfully behind his back as Hank hauled him up the garage stairs into the house, the other men following behind.

Hank led him through the house at a quick pace, giving him only a moment to glace at the layout. Then he was pressed through a doorway and flung down on bed while Clarence filtered into the room and Hank slammed the door.

"Give me the rope," Hank ordered to his associate, eyeing the material on a nearby desk.

Charlie rubbed his wrists, his skin a bright red from the fierce grip it had endured. There was no doubt by the end of the night the red would be a dark blue and black. He sat forward on the squeaky bed just as Hank advanced on him.

"Now be still," Hank warned him, "Or I get to hurt you." He pounced forward to flip Charlie onto his stomach and tied his hands effectively behind his back.

As Hank backed off him, reaching for some type of masking tape Charlie gave a quick and punctuated kick to his assailant's chest. "Let me go!" Charlie wiggled from the bed and managed to take a few freeing steps before he was caught but Hank's large and brutal hands.

While he had been much closer to freedom then ever before just a few moments ago, now he was back on the squeaky bed, a knife pressed into the hallow of his throat.

"I wouldn't do that again, kid," Clarence warned him with a look of authenticity.

"No, no," Hank corrected, pressing his knife into Charlie's throat. "Do it again. I'd love to skin you alive, you little shit. Kick me again and see what happens."

In that moment Charlie realized he'd have to pick his battles very carefully.

"My brother," Charlie told him carefully, "Is going to kick your ass." He wanted the threat of Don Eppes to hang in the air, because Charlie knew all too well what his brother was capable of. Don would find him and he wouldn't sit idly while Hank and Clarence and the rest of their little group were led away in handcuffs. There was a good chance they wouldn't walk at all.

"And what's your brother gonna do?" Hank asked, retracting the knife.

"Don't act so intellectually challenged," Charlie bit back. "Oh, wait, that isn't an act, right?"

Clarence laughed and Hank's eyes narrowed in anger. "You listen to me," He said, leaning forward to replace the knife at Charlie's throat with his elbow, effectively cutting off his air supply. "I dunno why Jerry is keeping you alive. If it was up to me I'd have killed you and dumped your body by now. You can consider yourself lucky, but if you run that mouth anymore I might slip up with me knife. See, I have a tendency to lose control from time to time and if I were to maybe put the knife in your belly, then oops."

Charlie's vision faded as the words became harder and harder to understand. He couldn't breathe, couldn't choke, couldn't do anything his body so desperately wanted. His feet kicked instinctively and his eyes rolled upwards.

"Knock it off!" Clarence gave a good shove to Hank, dislodging him off Charlie. "You'll kill him."

"That was the point," Hank said, swinging around. "And don't you ever put your hands on me again, or I'll fucking slit your throat."

Charlie curled in on himself, sucking in air frantically as the two men argued behind him.

"Get out of here Hank. I'll watch the kid. You go sharpen your knives, or whatever you do."

With a harsh grunt Hank pulled himself from the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving the other two men along.

Charlie kept still, still breathing heavily. "Thank you," he said to Clarence, having no doubt Hank might have seriously wounded him if he had been allowed to continue.

"Hey," Clarence shrugged, "I ain't got nothing against you."

"Then let me go. If you help me get out of here you'll stand the best chance of receiving a lighter sentence from the judge. If you help me I'll help you. I promise you I'll tell the judge what you did for me." He shifted forward into a sitting position, his arms already aching behind his back. "Your name is Clarence, right? Get me out of here Clarence."

Clarence leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Look, I'd love to bust you out of here. Hell, I wanted to shove you right out of the car before we took it, but I ain't in charge here. What Jerry says goes, and he wants you around for something, probably insurance. We stole a Fed's car, and you know that, which means they're gonna want it back, and probably you too. You're our way out in case they find us, and that means you can't go anywhere."

"Please," Charlie said, "Just give me a fair chance to get out of here."

"I want to, really," Clarence told him, "But you're a witness and I've got too much ridding on this heist to let you get away. I feel bad, really, but I've got a family and they need the money."

"And this is how you want your family to remember you? You want them to watch the news and see you led away in handcuffs?"

Clarence tipped his chair back and settled his feet onto the desk top. "We won't get caught," he cautioned, "And if we did, we certainly wouldn't go out in handcuffs. Now I suggest you get some rest, because if I know Jerry, he'll be wanting to have a little talk with you later, and you're gonna need your strength for that."

_Additional Author's Notes: This story was on a one way trip to the discarded bin for a long time. I got halfway through this chapter and it just wouldn't write itself anymore. I tried a lot of different things, and finally persistence just paid off. The story is still in danger of dying, but I haven't given up hope on it yet. _


	4. Step Four: Illusion

Six Steps to Purgatory

Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language) Be on the lookout for a possible change in rating soon.

Author's Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in.

Author's Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie.

Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.

**Super, super thanks to my new beta, Zubeneschamali, who is a total Angel for putting up with my typos. I can't imagine the amount of patience it took to go through my work. This chapter is ultimately so much better because of my new, fabulous beta.**

Chapter Four:

Step Four: Illusion

As it turned out, Stockholm Syndrome wasn't anything to be taken lightly. Not that Charlie felt he was becoming susceptible to it, but merely that he was beginning to understand it. The longer he was in the presence of Clarence, in the small bedroom with the coral wall paper, the more he began to sympathize with the young man. He certainly wasn't feeling the need to don camouflage, pick up a machine gun and rob a bank with the same men who had kidnapped him, but he wasn't judging their actions so harshly, or at least Clarence's.

Clarence was a newlywed. In his late twenties, he had been married four month, with a young wife and three children waiting for him at home. He had promised to do right by his wife; promised to get his life together and provide a good life for his family. Due to a previous stay in jail, finding work proved hard, and as such the few odd jobs he managed to acquire did little to feed his family. He and his family were facing poverty when Clarence's older cousin Jerry offered him a chance to make money. So as Charlie understood it, Clarence felt helping his cousin concoct a string of robberies was his best chance at providing food, shelter and anything else his family might need. That was why Clarence wouldn't consider letting him escape.

"I've got a family, too," Charlie told him. "I've got an older brother and a father." And he had Larry and Amita and dozens of other friends whom he considered family.

Then they didn't speak to each other for another hour. Charlie napped lightly, trying to fight off the stinging numbness in his arms, and valiantly manage to get circulation into his limbs. Ultimately his sleep was fitful, filled with dreams of Don stumbling upon his body either when the FBI raided the house, or in some ditch on some nameless street. And there were flashes of his father's heartbroken face, having lost another member of his family so soon after his wife.

The sun was getting ready to set when Charlie awoke to the sight of Clarence leaving the room, and Jerry coming in to sit in the same seat as his cousin.

Jerry was a large man, standing easily over six feet, and a bit on the heavy side. His dark hair was thinning rapidly in his years, which Charlie estimated to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. He carried himself in a nonabrasive, but a somewhat threatening way. Charlie didn't feel imposed on in his company, but the air seemed to crackle with unspoken threats. The mathematician surmised Jerry wasn't naturally aggressive, but completely capable of it.

The tall man pulled Clarence's chair out from the desk and turned it around to straddle it backwards. He rested his arms on the back of the chair and set his chin on the back of his hands.

In response Charlie shifted from his position on his stomach to one on his knees. He settled down and finally folded his legs into an Indian style. He flexed his fingers experimentally, still not actually feeling the digits, merely the pain the action caused.

"What were you doing in the car, kid?" Jerry questioned him, his voice low and rough. "What's your association with the FBI?"

Charlie opened his mouth, thinking as fast as his brain would allow. "Some of the agents," he said slowly, "are family friends. I do some consulting work for the FBI when I have spare time." The words satisfied Charlie, who disliked lying more than just about anything else.

"You were consulting today?"

Charlie nodded. "I was working on, well, on your case. The FBI asked me to see if I could figure out where you'd hit next. Instead I figured out where you'd be hiding out."

In anger Jerry said, "And if it weren't for a head's up you and your Fed buddies would have taken all my men, and probably weaseled out the location of the merchandise out."

"You've been stealing from some pretty important people. You also hit a Federal Bank. You had to know the FBI would be after you. You managed to steal millions of dollars in cash, artwork and dozens of other things. You're obviously a very competent group, but not one that's infallible."

Jerry waved a hand frivolously at Charlie. "Feds ain't that smart. Figured we'd get most of the stuff out of the country before they got hip to us. Didn't count on a consultant."

Charlie smiled weakly. "Just doing my job."

"Then you gonna understand when I do mine." With a shift Jerry's coat fell to one side, revealing a gun, which in all probability was loaded.

"You've seen us." Jerry grunted. "Seen our faces, car and where we're laying low. You ain't in your right mind if you think we're gonna let you go."

With a pale face Charlie shook his head. "Statistically you'd stand a better chance of escaping successfully if you eliminated the weakest variable of your equation."

An unreadable expression came over Jerry's wide face. At one moment Charlie thought it was one of amusement, and then grievance, and then acceptance, but nonetheless he really couldn't decide. But Jerry wasn't reaching for his gun, or making any sudden movements so that had to be good, at least for the moment.

"You're real smart, ain't you, consulting for the FBI and all? And you talk funny. Whatcha do for a living?"

"I'm professor of applied mathematics at CalSci, but these days I tend to do just as much consulting as teaching."

"For who?"

"FBI, NSA, ATF, NASA, EPA, USDA," Charlie trailed off, seeing his words were at least partially unknown to Jerry.

Jerry scooted the chair closer, the rollers squeaking. "So for instance, you could use all that math stuff to find me a place where I'd get the biggest payout? Could you figure out where bank shipments would be coming in, and when?"

Charlie swallowed, his body language voicing his displeasure. Part of him had always been worried someone would one day want him to figure such things out. He'd always carried some fear of being forced into such deeds.

"I could."

But doing what Jerry wanted would keep him alive long enough for Don to find him.

"Good." Jerry smiled, standing. "See, and here I thought I was gonna have to kill you. And they say kids ain't worth the effort these days.

"Hey," Charlie wiggled a bit. "Do you think you could take the handcuffs off? I'm getting numb."

Jerry retrieved a small key from his pocket. He leaned behind Charlie to undo the cuff on his left wrist. He brought the free cuff up to the top of the bed and clicked it shut over the metal railing. The relief wasn't much, but it was enough.

"Sit tight," Jerry told him, pulling the bedroom door open. "Don't wanna make me send Hank in to keep an eye on you, right? I'm sure he'd love to get better acquainted with you. He's spent years in jail and he don't right mind if your clothing is on or off."

(NUMB3RS)

Alan Eppes sat with his head between his knees, dragging in ragged air, trying to calm his furiously pounding heart. His eldest son stood behind him rubbing his back softly, saying things he couldn't possibly comprehend at the moment.

"Dad," Don repeated, kneeling down in front of his father. "Dad, look at me. I promise I'll get Charlie back. I won't let anything happen to him."

"Won't let anything happen?" The aged man lifted his head, lines of worry and panic creasing his forehead. "Donnie, your brother has been kidnapped by, as you tell me, ruthless criminals who have sent numerous people to the hospital. And God only knows where he is at the moment, or if he's even still--" Alan stopped, dropping his head again to breathe. "It's your job to keep Charlie safe. You're the only reason I give my consent to him going out on the field with you," He mumbled lowly.

"Don't you think I feel bad, Dad? Don't you think I'd trade positions with Charlie in an instant? Do you even know how much I'm hurting right now? It's just as much as you, if not more. Charlie is my little brother, one I swore to protect at all costs, and he's missing. If he's hurt in any way I'll never forgive myself, and I won't expect you to."

"Oh, Donnie." Alan stood shakily with a bit of help from Don, and wrapped his arms around his tall son. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insinuate that you--"

Don nodded, squeezing back at his father. "I know."

"You'll get Charlie back, I believe in you."

"I want you to know, Dad, that everyone in my department is working on the case. Everyone wants to get Charlie back and everyone is dedicated to making that happen."

The men separated as Don's cell phone gave off a shrill ring, and vibrated strongly from its place on Don's belt. With a flick of his wrist he opened the phone and raised it to his ear where he listened carefully for the next forty seconds.

"I have to go," Don said, snapping his phone shut and reaching for his coat. "They found the car Charlie was hijacked in."

"That's good news?" Alan didn't doubt it was good, but from the expression on his son's face, it was as if Charlie himself had been found.

Don raced to the front door. "It is when there's a witness."

Alan followed after him, taking is own coat from the rack near the door. "I'm coming with you."

"Dad, I don't think that's a good idea," Don called over his shoulder as he raced towards his temporary car.

"Donald Patrick Eppes, you listen to me this instant. You know I have every right just the same as you to be there. Now you can let me come with you, or I'll follow you myself."

Don quickly unlocked the doors, waited for his father to climb in and hit the accelerator, peeling out of the neighborhood.

They came upon the nicknamed Harper's Alley, located relatively deep inside The Fitzgerald Complex. Don recalled having done a few drug stings in the alley a while ago, before the county had deemed the area off limits to federal officers. With the discontinuation of the federal presence, the police departments stopped responding to calls in the dangerous area, along with other rescue departments. The Fitzgerald Complex had once been a thriving area, but now was little more than a small hell.

Don slammed the car into park just behind a police car, seeing both Terry and David standing just outside the alley, talking to another agents.

"Terry! David!" Don waved at them, jogging swiftly with his father just behind him. "What's the situation?" A glimpse down the alley showed his car, tire marks and just behind that a large pool of blood.

Terry offered him a tentative smile before flipping open her handheld pad. "Since we were able to confine the search area to the Fitzgerald Complex, we managed to find the vehicle relatively fast, we also had help with a consultant." Terry jerked a thumb towards a woman standing near a cop car, writing furiously on a piece of paper. "Whoever took the car wasn't a moron. They found the tracking device and disabled it."

"Which is why we couldn't track it by satellite," Don interrupted. Federal cars were embedded with small electronic tracking devices for their exact situation. The fact that a criminal had known firstly where to look for it, and secondly how to remove it properly without setting off a warning, did little to settle Don's stomach.

"You said there was a witness?"

"Yeah," David said. "That blood over there belongs to him."

Terry nodded in verification. "He was bleeding to death when we showed up. He'd been shot several times."

"Forensics was here about ten minutes ago and he was taken to a local hospital about fifteen ago."

"What makes him a witness?" Alan asked, his hand settling on Don's broad shoulder. "Why not just a gang member who got caught in the wrong area? What's the connection to Charlie?"

"He wasn't extremely lucid by the time we got here," Terry said, "But he managed to confirm that five men, one fitting Charlie's description, met him in the alley in Don's car. One of the men shot him and took his car."

David said, "He confirmed he was supposed to be working with them."

Don nodded. "Until he was double crossed."

"This man can give us the license plate number of the car Charlie went off it, the identities of the men who took it, and if we're really lucky, we'll get a destination and address. The guy is the best thing to happen to us on this case."

Don crossed his arms and glanced back towards the blood pooling in the alley. "If he survives."


	5. Step Five: Aggression

Six Steps to Purgatory

Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language) Be on the lookout for a possible change in rating soon.

Author's Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in.

Author's Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie.

Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.

**And of course major thanks to my beta Zubeneschamali. Without whom, my work in the fandom of NUMB3RS wouldn't be half as good.**

Chapter Five

Step Five: Aggression

The one real potential link to Charlie was taken to Saint Lucas', whereupon his arrival the man was raced into surgery. Don, his team, and Alan followed in the ambulance's wake.

Along with their police escort they pushed through maddening LA traffic with swift precision, hoping for even the smallest of a miracle.

During their wait in the hospital's designated room, Don, Terry and David huddled together over their few known facts while Alan busied himself with supplying the team with coffee. There was no reason for Alan to be present, Don stressed, but budging his father when the man dug his heels in had never been his forte. Charlie would have been able to persuade their father to return home and rest, Don knew that for sure. Instead Don kept the older man busy with cafeteria runs while he filtered through any incoming data from the crime scene.

It would be hours later when the doctor emerged from surgery looking spent and covered in blood.

"He held steady," The doctor told them, wiping his sweat covered brow. "Not by much, and he lost a lot of blood, but if all goes well in the next twenty four hours I'm fairly confident he'll make a slow but full recovery."

Don exhaled heavily, resting a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. He turned to Terry. "I want two police officers posted in front of this guy's room and I need another undercover. No one gets in or out without the proper identification."

When she took a few steps away to make her call, Don turned back to the doctor. "When can I speak with him?"

The doctor looked aghast. "Not for several days at least."

Don snapped, "I'm sorry doctor, but that just isn't going to work. He's the lead witness in an ongoing FBI investigation. He is also quite possibly the only man that knows the location of a kidnapped civilian FBI consultant. It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him as soon as possible."

"I'm not sure you understand," The doctor peered at Don's ID badge. "Agent Eppes. The man under my care is in critical condition at the moment. When he was admitted to me I was charged with the task of stemming the blood flow that threatened to take his life, and the removal of two bullets lodged in the upper chest cavity and another in his thigh. He's lucky to have survive the surgery and is heavily medicated. Even if we took him off the drugs currently sedating him it could be hours to days before he's lucid enough to answer your questions."

"Isn't there some sort of stimulant you could give him?" David asked. "Couldn't you wake him if necessary? It's very important we speak with him."

The doctor reviewed his charts. "I gather that much, Agent, but despite your faith in the medical community, we haven't produced any miracle drugs that wake people up after they've lost large amounts of blood." He retrieved a form and pulled a pen from his coat pocket. "This is a waver form, Agent Eppes. It states that the FBI had taken responsibility for the welfare of the man lying in the hospital bed just down the hall. By signing this form I agree to take him off the sedative and painkillers in hopes of him waking sooner than he would have before this action. Please read this form carefully, I'll be back in five minutes."

The middle-aged doctor handed the crisp form over to Don along with the pen and turned to leave.

"What is this all about?" Alan asked, accompanying Don to the room's chairs.

"Police will be here in ten," Terry told Don, who nodded in approval.

"I want you to head on over to the room now. Check things out and stay there until the police arrive."

Don's eyes skimmed the beginning of the form, then told his father, "It's a way for the hospital to cover their behinds. What I want them to do can be considered inhumane or at the very least detrimental to the patient's recovery process. If I sign this the FBI takes all responsibility for his health, meaning if the guy recovers he can't sue the hospital for mistreatment. Likewise if we cause his death in any way, his family can't sue the hospital and the presiding doctor cannot be brought up on criminal or malpractice charges."

"And you feel this is the best course of action?" Alan asked, uncomfortable with the thought of the man suffering, especially if he hadn't directly harmed Charlie in anyway. He might have been a criminal and had horrible intent, but to Alan he was just as much a victim as his youngest son.

David said, "It isn't the nicest thing to do, but being nice won't find Charlie. If this guy knows even the smallest detail it'll greatly increase the chances of recovering your son. Mr. Eppes, the longer Charlie is missing, the least likely it is we're going to find him alive. We have to act now."

"I'm calling Thompson now," Don said, pulling his phone out. "This is way over my head. I have to get clearance to sign."

David didn't want to think about what would happen if Garrett Thompson didn't give Don the authorization. At this point David wasn't quite sure Don would be so willing to follow a direct order. He hadn't know Don more than a year, but so far he had surmised through his time with the Agent that he placed his father and Charlie above his job. If Thompson told Don to leave the guy alone, chances were David would be helping Don conduct their own series of illegal activities. When it came to Charlie, Don would risk his job without a second thought.

Alan and David held their breaths during the phone call, but physically relaxed when Don signed his name neatly. It wasn't made clear if Don had the actual authorization to sign his name, but it had been done and they were all going to live with it.

The doctor returned to collect the form at the same time Terry did.

"Uniforms are in place and briefed," Terry informed them. "I know Ynes and Fallon. They're good men."

The doctor looked the forms over and studied Don's signature. "I must emphasize that this is a bad idea. If you push him too hard he could relapse."

Don nodded at the doctor.

Alan's shoulder bumped Don's just barely and they understood each other. This wasn't about getting Charlie back for the FBI, or rescuing Charlie because of his talents and importance. This was about Charlie who was a member of their family. This was about finding Charlie because he had been snatched right from under everyone's noses and he didn't deserve to be subjected to anything that even resembled aggression or violence. They wanted Charlie back because he didn't belong with his kidnappers.

"We'll attempt to rid the patient's bloodstream of the sedative but it could take some time. When he does come to he'll probably be confused at first and it's very important you don't pressure him. Let his memory return to him without pushing and you'll probably get a lot more from him."

Don shook the doctor's hand and they parted company.

"David," Don said, beckoning the agent over. "I want you to take my dad home."

"Now wait one moment!" Alan interrupted, surging forward.

Ignoring his father's actions Don said, "Make sure your check everything out, just to be sure."

"I'm not going home, " Alan argued. "Not if this man has any indication of where your brother is. I'm not leaving until I know where Charlie is."

Don held his father at his shoulders. "Dad, we don't even know if this guy is going to give us anything. You're just wearing yourself down by staying here. Go home and rest. I promise to call as soon as I know anything, okay? Dad, trust me to take care of things. Trust me to find Charlie."

Alan was hesitant when he said, "You'll call?" Don nodded. "Even for the smallest thing?" Don nodded again. "You promise?"

"Yes, dad, I will call."

Alan hugged his son close, holding on as tightly as he could manage. "Take care of yourself, Don. Find Charlie and bring him home to me."

Don entrusted his father's well-being to David and watched them leave.

Behind him Terry said, "Your father will be fine, Don. Right now we need to concentrate on this guy and Charlie."

Don snapped into action. "Right. Let's figure out who this guy is."

Terry smiled. "That's a good start."

Don was warmed by her smile and returned it.

(NUMB3RS)

Charlie's eyes danced over the numbers in front of him, his mind whirling in equations. His fingers shook as he placed pieces of paper together with pictures and then grouped them in various ways. He ran multiple scenarios in his mind according to information given in front of him, mentally deducing the one factor Jerry wanted from him.

Across the room at the chair sat Hank, feet propped up, head tilted back. He was snoring loudly. Charlie was surprised he wasn't picking his teeth with his knife.

His attention turned back to the data presented. In LA alone for the next week there were three different armored trucks expected to arrive in nearby locations with loads of money in the hundred thousands. Along with that Charlie's eyes scanned over the sheet of paper that told him Hendricks's Jewelers was receiving a new batch of jewels and their security system was being upgraded the very day before, but would be down during the installation. Then there was The Parthenon which specialized in ancient works of art that were available to private buyers; building next door was being renovated. And of course there was the art show that showcased Rudolf II Habsburg's collection which was being brought over from Prague.

Hank snored louder and jerked a bit in his chair, bringing Charlie's attention over to him. He peered suspiciously at the man and climbed from his seat on the bed. He stood silently on the carpet, relieved to be free from the handcuffs. However he doubted Hank was supposed to be sleeping in room.

With a surge of courage Charlie tiptoed over to the bedroom door, confident in the snores behind him. A quick look out the door told him there wasn't any way he was getting out of the room. Lee was perched down the hall, his back turned to the room, guarding the stairs that led down to the first floor. He closed the door silently and turned to rest his back against it.

He glanced about the room as if seeing the contents for the first time--as if escape was truly on his mind for the first time. And escape had just jumped priority wise as he realized he probably wouldn't get a chance at escape in the future. Hank would never fall asleep in the room again and he'd certainly never be left alone.

The room was small and if he couldn't make it out the door, the window was his only other option. Of course the window also posed a large problem. The large oak desk in the room was situated right in front of the window, and that of course meant Hank was in his way. Charlie had no doubt that no matter how much of a deep sleep the man seemed to be in, if he attempted to climb up the desk and over it, he'd find out just how real Hank's threats were.

Charlie detested violence, but even more he detested being held prisoner by threats of pain and death.

That thought alone prompted him to retrieve the heavy bedside lamp and cradle it in his hands. He trekked the small distance over to Hank and paused. Then, with a gust of wind he brought the lamp up, and then with force smashed it down on Hank's head, ensuring the man wouldn't pose an immediate problem.

With a hop he launched himself up on the desk. He was well aware he had mere seconds to successfully escape before the loud sound of the lamp colliding with Hank's head had Jerry or any of the other men rushing into the room.

He kicked the window screen out, hearing it clatter onto the cement two stories down. Then it was a matter of reassuring himself he could survive the fall. He could hear Jerry calling Hank's name, which prompted him to the decision that taking a chance on the fall rather than remaining in the room was his best bet. A quick look below him showed that he'd drop onto the small, cement pathway on the side of the house. A little further up the path was a high wooden gate that led to the street and ultimately his freedom if he could flag someone down.

The bedroom door burst open and he jumped to avoid Jerry's reaching hand.

He landed hard, his legs giving out from under him. His hands came out to break his fall and he felt a pulse of pain in his wrist. On any other occasion the possibility of a sprained and bruised wrist would have been enough to stop Charlie, but Jerry was already screaming at him and at the other criminals, so he picked himself up and sprinted towards the gate as fast as his quaking legs could take him.

The gate had looked high from the window, but from the ground and with an injured wrist it was impossibly high. He wasn't going to be able to jump it. Don might have stood a chance at getting over, but Charlie knew he wasn't nearly as athletic as his older brother.

At the sound of voices behind him he spun around, right into the barrel of a gun. He was caught and gone were his chances of escape.


	6. Step Six: Judgement

Six Steps to Purgatory

Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language) Be on the lookout for a possible change in rating soon.

Author's Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in.

Author's Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie.

Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.

**Final thanks to Zubeneschamali. She did amazing work on this story, and made it possible for everyone to read without being annoyed by small mistakes. So, we should all just bow down right now.**

Chapter Six: Judgment

Using his stature and the substantial height difference, Don loomed over the Asian man in the hospital bed. He braced one hand on the bedside table and the other on the railing attached to the medical bed. Terry stood behind him, her silent confidence urging him on.

"Listen to me, Tao, and listen good. You've got a warrant out for your arrest. It seems you're pretty popular with the NYPD, and you've been trying to make your mark here in LA. As it stands now, you're going down for several felonies, and you're looking at many, many decades in prison."

Don spared no sympathy for Gideon Tao. Despite the man's fragile appearance, he was a hard-laced criminal, and he had plenty of bite left in him. He was a conman according to his file, and Don knew he'd be taken for a long and costly ride if he didn't come down hard on Tao. He had to let the man know exactly who was in charge.

"We know what went down in the Fitzgerald complex. We know you were double crossed by a group of men who've been robbing LA blind. We want to know who these men were and how to find them."

Terry stepped into view and around Don. "We're prepared to offer you a deal on shortening your sentence. We know you have three small children with your wife. You don't want them to get to know you behind bars. You don't want to get out when they're forty."

"What's so important about Jerry?" Tao asked, voice straining.

"Jerry who?" Don surged forward. "Give me a last name."

Tao turned his chin up stubbornly. "You answer my question and I'll answer yours."

Don paused, shared a sharp look with Terry and then leaned down into Tao's personal space.

"He fled from the scene of a crime in which several police officers were killed, and we suspect he and his associates are responsible. He also took a civilian consultant hostage. We want him recovered alive."

"Oh, no," Tao coughed deeply. "He's much more than that, Agent Eppes." The prisoner tugged on his bed restraints. "Your eyes flickered when you mentioned the consultant. He is of great importance to you."

"My brother was the consultant. Now answer my question." Don felt unnerved by the man, but even more so at his admission. Unfortunately, it was becoming apparent to both of them that he needed Tao more than the other way around. Don was losing ground quickly.

By sheer luck Tao relented, "Never gave me a last name." His gaze flickered over to Terry. "How good a deal?"

She pushed her glasses up the rim of her nose. "You might get to see your kids graduate, and that's the best offer you're going to get from anyone."

"Tao," Don said, "Be reasonable. This is a once only deal. Pass it up and you'll be in prison until you're gray."

The Asian man slid his eyes closed, whether in thought or pain, Don did not know. He only understood if Tao refused the offer and withheld any information that could help Charlie, then Don was going to make sure he ate through a straw for the rest of his life. If he lost Charlie, his badge would be worth his vengeance.

"If I help you out, my family will be in danger. I'll go down as a squealer and they'll be in danger. If getting Jerry is so important, you have to guarantee my family's safety."

Don couldn't pause. "Done. You give us the information we need to know and we'll take them into protective custody."

Tao asked for water afterwards, preparing to speak for a long period of time. Don allowed a nurse to assist him in drinking, and then pulled a stool near the bed. Don asked for Terry to check on David's status, more for his own benefit than David's. Don had a hunch Tao would be more willing to divulge mass quantities of information if it was just the two of them.

"We only met twice before," Tao started shakily. "Different cases, small cases. Jerry was a nothing then. He was scum on my employer's shoes, but he had potential, and the loyalty of those who worked with him. When he contacted me for his latest heist, it seemed like a sure bet." His voice fell low. "There aren't any sure bets in this business. I was stupid."

Don nodded. "Understandably. He double crossed you, took your cut and tried to kill you."

"But it was that bastard Lee who pulled the trigger. He's been gunning for me for a while."

"Let me guess, no last name either?"

Tao shook his head. "Nothing remotely real."

Don had to ask, "Did you see the kidnapped consultant?"

"Yes," Tao confirmed. "Saw the guy being yanked around by one of Jerry's muscles. I wanted to get rid of him right then and there. You can thank Jerry for not letting me blow his brains out right on the spot. I thought the guy was trouble, especially when the Feds were mentioned."

Don forced himself to keep his mouth shut, his fists clenched at his sides. He couldn't lose his tempter with Tao. He couldn't risk the man holding back any important information. He couldn't let Tao know how absolutely rattled he was at the thought of the man wanting to kill his brother.

"He seemed fine," Tao continued, "Upset and scared shitless, but fine. As long as he hasn't pissed Jerry off, he's probably still alive. If Jerry had wanted him dead, he'd be lying in the alley you found me in. Jerry tends to think ahead, a quality essential in our line of work."

Don forced himself back on track. "How'd Jerry contact you? You get his number or a meeting place?"

"He called me from payphones, and we met in different places, so there isn't anything for you to trace. When I needed to contact him he gave me a number, but it wasn't his."

"Can you remember it?" Don retrieved a small pad of paper from his coat pocket and a pen. "Who's number was it?"

Tao fell silent, his attention drifting. His eyes fell to half-mast and the heart monitor he was hooked to beeped a bit more quickly.

"Hey!" Don snapped his fingers, noticing the sweat on Tao's upper lip. "Focus here, Tao. I need my information and you need your family to be under police protection." It came out as a threat, which Don felt slightly concerned about.

"607-689-1101."

Don scribbled it down quickly.

"Who's number is it?" He already had his cell phone flipped open, dialing the trace department. He recited the number over the phone with a message to forward the information to Terry.

"A woman always answered the phone." Tao was talking again, although his eyes had fallen closed. "Sounded southern, like she just moved out here. She always had the information for Jerry. She talked like she knew him intimately."

"A girlfriend," Don asked.

Tao disregarded that notion right away. "I've been at the game for a long time. I know the difference. I suspected a sister. Her name was Kim, I think, heard it in the background once, which told me she wasn't pro."

Tao opened his eyes and shifted towards Don. "Phone tracer told me she lived in the Cambridge apartment complex. I can't remember the number." Tao finished, with wide and bright eyes, "That's all. You find her and you'll find Jerry, and then your brother."

Don stood and left Tao's bedside.

"I expect to find my family in good health when I get out of prison."

"You have my word they will be protected."

Don left Tao in the company of the assigned guards and had just flipped his phone open to make a call when his cell rang.

"Phone number is registered to the home address of a Kimberly Comet." Terry's voice was just what Don needed to hear. "She lives in the Cambridge complex, number 249, west section. Units closest are in place and I'm on my way to the hospital. I'll pick you up in about a minute." Terry paused, the sounds of LA street traffic coming over the cell. "Is that where Charlie is?"

Don raced down the hall towards the elevator. "No, but she's most likely the sister to the man who kidnapped Charlie, a Jerry fellow. Tao says she'll know where to find Jerry."

Don could hear David's voice in the car and he assumed Terry had met up with him just after her departure from the hospital. His talk with Tao hadn't last more than fifteen minutes, even with Tao needing to take breaks.

Then Terry was speaking again. "David says her file lists one sibling, a Jerry Hallowell. We don't have an address on him but David's calling it in. However, chances are--"

"It'll be a fake address," Don finished. "Alright, I'll be waiting for you outside."

They raced off to the Cambridge complex, a mere ten minutes from the hospital.

When the FBI kicked Kim Comet's door open, it was late into the evening and they found her tucking her children in bed. Don counted two children in the room she was in, and another two doors in the hallway, leading to the possibility of many more.

"Tell us about your brother, Ms. Comet." Don had her cornered her in the living room, FBI agents littering the space. "We know he's involved in the recent robberies in LA and we know you know how to find him."

She was a strikingly beautiful woman and Don was almost ashamed for noticing. He could easily see himself being attracted to her, was she not even remotely involved in Charlie's case. She was petite but strongly built, radiating confidence in herself.

"Who do you think you are?" She shot back, poking him in the chest.

Don caught her hand, forcing her back. He reminded her to keep her hands to herself and then questioned her again about her brother.

"Even if I knew where he was, do you think I'd tell you? My brother is a saint among sinners. After my pathetic excuse for a husband ran out on me he supported me. Who was there for me when my children needed medical care? Jerry was! You're scum in comparison."

It was David's hand on his shoulder that held in place. He hissed, "Scum is killing honest police officers. Scum is kidnapping someone who can't defend himself against a gun. Scum is your brother's definition. We know you know where he is, and we're going to find out one way or another."

"Don!" Terry entered the room in a flash. "We're checking all the phone calls made to and from this residence over the past month. It's going to be a while, but we'll find the number if he used a cell phone." Terry was confident in that, because everyone had cell phone.

"How many kids do you have, Ms. Comet?" Don asked, jerking his thumb towards to bedrooms.

"Four," She said defiantly.

"Now ask yourself, if you don't cooperate with us, who's going to look after them? You're withholding information, and if Jerry gets away, or if anything happens to the man he's kidnapped, you'll go to jail. Can your children afford to have their mother go to jail."

That apparently struck a nerve, and next to Don, David jumped into action.

"Think about your situation, Ms. Comet. Your brother has been using you." Kim Comet shook her head, refusing to believe the words. "He knew there was always the possibility of someone catching on to his plans, no matter how calculated they were. He knew if the heat was turned on any of his contacts or partners, they'd give the FBI and police your number. You've been acting liaison for him and his customers and contacts, and that makes you a part of this case, no matter what you say. He's counting on you taking the fall for him. He's probably been feeding you money all this time in case everything led up to this moment."

Don added, "If you cooperate with us we'll work with you and the judge. We'll make sure the judge knows your brother manipulated you. If you tell us where he is, we can work out a deal for probation and your kids won't be split up and placed into foster care. Think of your kids."

And with a silent scream of joy, Don knew he had her.

(NUMB3RS)

Charlie gingerly touched his right cheek, tentatively feeling around the skin that he knew was discolored. He was currently curled on the ice cold floor of the house's basement, his left hand cuffed to a pipe protruding from a wall. He'd been informed the overhead garage door didn't open, and the door that led from his location to the main house was firmly bolted closed. He wasn't going anywhere again, not that his ribs would permit it.

They'd worked him over good after his escape attempt. He had good reason to believe his cheekbone was broken, or at least fractured, because he's been beat up before and he was hurting worse than ever before. And while he suspected on his cheek, he was certain with his ribs. Hank had wanted to break his legs, but thankfully the man had settled for his ribs. It was getting harder to breathe and part of Charlie wondered if he had internal bleeding.

Jerry had made it perfectly clear he wouldn't put up with another attempt. There was shoot on sight order if he tried, not that Charlie wanted move ever again. His ability to determine the most probable place to strike next was probably the only thing that had saved his life. Jerry agreed about the accessibility and had based Charlie's worth on that fact. If Charlie believed in luck, he sure figured he was the luckiest kidnapped guy in the world.

Over the past year Charlie had been working with Don, he had grown confident in his brother. While he wasn't naïve enough to think that Don was a hero who swept in and always saved the day, he was congratulating his brother more often then not. But now Charlie had all but given up hope. He found himself in a lose-lose situation, aware that if he had internal damage, he could bleed to death, or be used to help a criminal rob and hurt good people. They were both equally frightening.

The heavy bolt on the door popped open and Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. The door swung open silently and light footsteps made their way down the few steps that connected the basement floor to the house. Then unexpectedly a cool hand was on his forehead, the same forehead he had concluded was far too hot to be normal.

"Charlie?" A voice whispered to him quietly.

"Clarence?" Charlie blinked his eyes open, squinting at the tall man. "What're you doing?"

Clarence reached over to Charlie's cuffs and retrieved a key, unlocking the younger man. "I'm getting you out of here. Jerry has lost it. He's really lost it. He and Hank are on a war path."

Charlie bit down on his tongue in an effort not to scream when Clarence sat him up.

"How?" He gasped, finding it almost impossible to think clearly. "How are we going to get out?"

Clarence waved a small pistol. "I swiped it from Jerry. I'll do what I need to." He slipped and arm around Charlie's shoulders, preparing to help him climb to his feet. "They're going to kill you, Charlie. They're going to kill you and kidnap another mathematician or some crazy plan."

"You didn't want to help me before," Charlie pointed out. He had to bury his head in Clarence's shoulder when he was hoisted to his feet.

"You're a good person, Charlie. You actually listened to me when I talked about my family. You didn't judge me. I couldn't live with myself if I let Jerry hurt you anymore or kill you. I want to be your friend, Charlie, when I get out of jail and everything."

Clarence and Charlie hobbled over to the door, maneuvering the steps with a painfully slow speed. Clarence leveled the gun in front of him, ready to shoot anyone who they came in contact with. Charlie thought it odd, through excruciating pain, that they hadn't encountered anyone so far. It made him nervous.

They were so close to the front door when Clarence slammed into Charlie, taking them both down to the ground. In shock, with eyes wide, Charlie was still and rigged as he was trapped beneath Clarence's bleeding body.

Jerry was standing behind them, a smoking gun in his hand.

"He's your cousin!" Charlie remarked, wiggling under Clarence's weight. He could feel the man's blood seeping through his shirt and staining his own.

"He was weak!"

Hank and Lee appeared behind Jerry, and then bypassed him to drag Clarence's body off Charlie. Jerry took it upon himself to yank Charlie upward, without concern for his well being.

Charlie saw stars as Jerry shook him. The mans word's made no sense, and Charlie wondered why he was hearing gibberish. His heartbeat was so loud, so thunderous. The ringing in his ears was threatening to overtake him and his vision had blackened a while back. He felt as if it were the end.

But then he heard, and he understood.

"You let him go, now."

Charlie could have wept.

He found his tongue, and while cloudy, his vision returned. He now realized Don was in his line of vision, gun raised and looking so intense Charlie wondered if he'd ever smile again. He also realized that there were other FBI agents filtering into the house, and he was pressed against Jerry's chest as some sort of shield. Don wasn't trying to shoot him, he was trying to hit Jerry.

"How'd you find us?" Jerry asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. He jerked his head towards Hank and Jerry who were both being cuffed. "That whore sister of mine told you, didn't she?"

"She did the right thing," Don calmly told him. "And now you're going to do the same."

The barrel of a gun jabbed at the base of Charlie's skull while Jerry nearly screamed, "You don't tell me what to do! I'll blow his brains out if you come any closer."

Jerry moved them backwards, towards the clear glass backdoor.

"If you let him go now, you won't be harmed. Listen to me, Jerry, you don't want to go this way."

Jerry removed his gun from the back of Charlie's head to wave it at Don. "Which way, Fed? I'm in control of the situation."

The shot came from outside, in the backyard where an FBI agent had taken a clear shot. With the gun removed from Charlie's head the trained sniper had shattered the glass door and nailed Jerry Hallowell in the back of the head.

With Jerry no longer holding him up, Charlie fell to the floor, boneless. Don was at his side seconds later, calling for an ambulance, his hands probing Charlie's bloody chest.

"It's not mine, Donnie," Charlie managed, trying to ward off his brother pushing on his chest. "Not mine."

Charlie slid his fingers through Don's, holding on tight. He let Don be his anchor, for the millionth time in his life. He was soothed by his brother's warm breath and soft words while he waited to be carted off to the hospital. Don made his chest numb and with his brother at his side, the pain didn't seem so bad.

(NUMB3RS)

Charlie was sleeping soundly in his assigned room when both Don and Alan were allowed access to him.

"You take the chair, Dad," Don said, guiding his father to a sitting position. "I have no doubt you've been pacing since you left the hospital. Rest for a while and keep Charlie company."

Alan blinked from one son to another. "Aren't you staying, Donnie?"

Don leaned over Charlie and kissed his brother on the forehead. "I've got some lose ends I have to wrap up first, but I'll be back." Truthfully, no matter how much a silent Charlie bothered him, Don wanted to pull up his own chair and just sit with his brother. Only recently had the doctors told them how serious Charlie's injuries had been. He was on the road to recovery, his ribs reset, but Don was wary about the idea of letting his kid brother out of his sight.

"I understand, hurry back."

Don embraced Alan longingly and then left the room, finding Terry and David waiting for him outside in the hallway.

"How's he doing?" Terry asked, her worry broadcasting loudly.

Don rubbed a tired hand over his face. "He came close to irreversible internal bleeding with the beating and all the moving around, but the doctors are confident in his recovery. It'll be a while, but Charlie will bounce back." He smiled fondly at the amount of strength his brother had managed, holding out for so long.

"Gideon Tao's condition had deteriorated," David informed Don. "He slipped into a coma just a little after you left and the doctors are not confident in his condition. He started bleeding again and isn't expected to survive for very long."

Don pressed his lips together, then said, "If he dies, put the word out on the street that Tao held out against the FBI. Make it known he died without betraying anyone. And keep a unit assigned to his family for a few weeks, just in case. I promised him his family's safety, and I intend to keep that promise. What about Kim Comet?"

Terry shook her head and gave a sigh. "She's going to testify in court against Lee Terrence and Hank Gibbon. She's going to tell the judge everything her brother filtered through her, and where to find most of the stolen merchandise that didn't go up in the explosion at the Steel factories. She'll most likely get strict probation, but she'll get to keep her kids."

Satisfied, Don wanted to know about the fourth man, Clarence.

David had to flip through several pages of notes to find a few lines on the man in question. "Died of blood loss on his way to the hospital. There isn't a whole lot of information on him. We can question Terrence and Gibbon about what happened, but it looks like a dispute."

"Alright." Don's whole body was still tingling with adrenaline. "Go home. Seriously, go home and sleep." His face softened as he faced the two people who stood by him without question. "I'll see you in the office tomorrow morning."

Both Terry and David offered their goodbyes and took off towards the elevator.

"David? Terry?" They looked back and he raised a hand. "Thanks, for everything."

He turned and headed back to Charlie's room, intending to be present when his brother awoke.

The End

_And never fear, there is a sequel currently in the outlining stages that will clear up any leftover questions. Expect it out in a few months time. And expect lots of drama._


End file.
